Our fears had been nearly identical. She had watched us all die.
But someone was missing. Phaedrus was nowhere to be seen.
In the depths of his mind, I had found only emptiness. What did he fear?
Icelus stood behind the guards, well out of our reach. “And to think, we believed you to have a modicum of sense. You’re as foolish as the false prince you follow.”
Catching my breath, I met his silver eyes. “You’re a lesser noble, aren’t you? Passed over for the crown of the Oracle.”
He grimaced. I’d struck a weak spot.
“Why the fervent devotion to rooting out traitors?” I wondered aloud. “Or do you enjoy braying at the heels of a man who thinks you worthless?”
With my words, Icelus’ defenses shattered. I slipped into his mind.
Icelus resented his lot in life. Though he was richer than ordinary people could imagine, he believed himself slighted. Deserving of more.
He interrogated rebels for a single purpose: to win acclaim and elevate his station. Everyone he harmed—mere collateral to his goal.
Nothing in his thoughts deserved sympathy. He was just like the nobles back home.
Did we labor to save the world for nothing at all? Freeing our lands from the Empty only delivered upon the people war and cruelty.
It would be a victory for the nobles, not the people we hoped to save.
Icelus’ hand ground into the top of his cane. He turned, speaking through gritted teeth. “Take care of them.”
One of the guards grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. Two strode past, approaching the basement hatch.
I counted the men surrounding us, trying to come up with a plan. “Are you alright?” I thought.
“F-fine.” Aethra rose, staring at the spear tucked under herchin. “Don’t do anything yet.”
I peeked behind the soldiers, watching Icelus descend the stairs. He didn’t want to stay near us any longer than necessary. Percy and Seth had planted newfound dread into him: the fear of death.
A fear the nobles of Duath Nun had long forgotten about.
The soldiers roughly checked us for weapons before herding us out of the throne room. I glanced down the hall, searching for Icelus. His cloak swept around a corner as he hastily retreated back to the safety of the ballroom.
A spear dug into my back, drawing a speck of blood. Unlike Aethra, these men had no reason to keep me alive. I’d have to be quick if I didn’t want to get skewered. Lunging forward, I grabbed the arm of the man before me. He spun in surprise, and I took his mind.
A spear flew at my back, as expected. My puppet spun around, intercepting the strike. Hearing the clash of steel, the rest of our escort drew their weapons. Eleven remained out of my control. Too many.
I dug deeper into my puppet’s mind. He was chthonic. Memories of a terrible storm that had nearly claimed his sister’s life spun in his head. The source of his magic.
“What’s gotten into you?” One of the guards yelled. Another drove their spear into my puppet’s gauntlet, disarming him.
The blow drew a faint line of blood. I ordered him to cast.
A crimson tornado erupted in the hall, throwing everyone back. My back struck the wall. Aethra lost her balance and slid across the tiles on her side. Blood and wind tore into my eyes, limiting my sight.
My puppet’s spear clattered across the ground and rolled toward us. Aethra grabbed it and staggered toward a knight who was knocked flat on his back. She lifted the weapon and plunged it into his shoulder. Grinning, I turned left in time to see a guard charging me, spear pointed forward.
I backed up, but it was too late. He was upon me.
The spear brushed my chest, but reached no further. Coiling vines wrapped the soldier, pulling him away from me. More shot through the hall, flowering whips lined with thorns. Blood metblood in the chaos of two spells intertwining.
Gritting my teeth, I seized hold of my puppet’s mind one last time, telling him to drop his spell.
